


Dressing for the Weather

by threewalls



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Better as Friends, Community: cottoncandy_bingo, M/M, Sharing a Bed, post concert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jiyong has bad nights. Seungri knows that. But this isn't one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dressing for the Weather

**Author's Note:**

> "better as friends" for cottoncandy_bingo.

Seungri discovers the hotel room keycard when it falls from his back jeans pocket, clattering onto the tiles of the mens' room floor. It's the same as the one in his jacket pocket-- where he's sure he put the card to his hotel room when he took it out of the socket that powered the light-switches in his room. They really are identical, he's sure, looking from one to the other. Same size, same colour, and then he realises that he's holding the two of them together and can't tell which card was from which pocket and whether he's just finished his third drink or was just thinking about getting a third drink when he came in here to make some room. 

Seungri likes clubs. He likes crowds of eyes watching him dance. He likes beautiful women who laugh at his jokes, long, pretty fingers touching their lips. Concerts leave him too pumped to go straight to sleep, and they're in London, _aw'right_? But, he thinks, slipping the keycards into his jacket, there will be other nights and other clubs.

Seungri had gone to sleep last night with his trainers propped up and dripping onto the bathroom floor, and a sky that hadn't stopped raining "cats and dogs" since lunchtime, water falling like the ringing of applause everywhere you went. He'd woken to a sky so blue of his hotel room window that it had looked computer generated. But that's UK weather for you, always changing. As a kid, Seungri might have kicked himself for not guessing the right outfit. He's old enough now to know to dress in layers.

It's a cool clear night in London. There aren't any messages on Seungri's phone, but he uses the Transport for London website to find out that the tube he'd taken into town had probably been the last one of the night. They also have a downloadable app that calls him a cab.

...

Seungri swipes one card in his hotel room door, and the light on the lock flashes red. 

He tries the other one, and the light flashes red.

He looks at the number on the door, and thinks, and thinks. But Seungri is still sure that this door is his hotel room.

He tries the first keycard, again, and this time the lock flashes green, clicking open.

"Just got back. Sorry if this wakes you, hyung," he texts, before wincing and dropping the phone on the bed. Because who texts something like that? How old is Seungri?

He shuts the bathroom door on the bed, and the sound of the shower running would cover the sound of the text message he isn't listening for.

...

Hair damp and soft against his head, Seungri feels a little more sober, but that fades away with the room heating. 

Using the phones Samsung gave them for the tour during the show, that's just advertising. That's what they're supposed to do. Nice big memory card, so Seungri can take pictures all tour and only have to empty it every few days. So Seungri film his hyungs and the crowd screaming for all of them, six thousand miles from Seoul. So he can film Jiyong... and Seungri, the way the fans can film them -- and this time he won't tweet anything. He'll just get them to put it up on BIGBANG's youtube channel; it's advertising. For them, and for the phones. The fans will eat it up.

But that's for tomorrow. Or at least, for after he gets a few hours sleep and after he re-watches the clip himself on a screen that fits in the palm of his hand.

It's three twenty-seven in the morning in London, and Seungri has one text message waiting. "I'll sleep in Seoul," it says, and there's a number that's two higher than the one on the door to Seungri's hotel room. 

...

Seungri's braced for a fight when the light on the door lock (eventually) flashes green. 

The keycard wasn't an order, any more than the text message was, even if the text message came a minute after Seungri's own. Seungri knows what orders look like, because orders from Jiyong are only ever about work, about the music. Everything else is hints and suggestions, if no less likely to end in smashed dishes, words like knives and perfect 3D impressions of someone's thick metal rings in one of the panels of a door. He knows what he could be walking into.

On the other side of the door, Seungri gets one short glance across the room.

There's soft light from one of the bedside lamps, and Jiyong in a silk robe that cost more than the hotel room. His hair's a little paler again, the temporary red washing out already even though he re-did the dye this morning, and there are smudges under his eyes, because it's night and Jiyong isn't wearing any make-up. He's writing something into a spiral bound notebook, muttering under his breath and tapping his pencil to a beat that's only playing in his head. 

There's a chair on the other side of the room's one table, across from Jiyong. Or Seungri could sit on the bed that's made so perfectly he doubts it was slept in last night, either. He stays standing, resting his back against the panelling of a closet door, the tension between his shoulder blades bleeding out moment by moment to the beat of a song he doesn't know yet. 

The heating's on even higher here. Seungri feels more awake with his eyes closed. 

...

Seungri's taken three steps forward, following the tug on his wrist, before he's fully awake.

"You're not sleeping in that here," Jiyong says. His fingers are bare and pushing off Seungri's shoulders the jacket Seungri put on after his shower just to walk over to the room next door. 

Seungri unbuttons his cuffs, while Jiyong slips the buttons of his dress shirt from their button holes, one at a time, starting from his throat. No wonder his heating is turned up. It's cool and clear and single digits outside, and Jiyong is wearing a white tank with the sides cut down to nearly his waist and silky shorts that are only not translucent because they're black. His robe is... somewhere else.

"You need help with this, too?" Jiyong asks, smirking, light fingers tripping over Seungri's navel after yanking the tails of his shirt from his waistband. Seungri squirms away when he realises Jiyong has already unthreaded his belt from the buckle. 

Seungri manages to extricate himself from his trousers without too much commentary from his leader. He lays them, folded, over the back of one of the chairs and nearly falls over his own feet straightening back up. 

Jiyong's back hits the bed with a thud, bright laughter trickling out from behind bitten lips and arms wrapped round his ribs. Seungri waits for Jiyong to look up, and sketches a theatrically exaggerated bow in just his underwear. 

"It's so past your bedtime, maknae." Jiyong pats the bed beside him, and holds out a hand. "Come here."

...

"Trouble sleeping?" The question is light, a whisper in Seungri's hair and a pause in the path of Jiyong's palm along his back. 

Seungri can believe that Jiyong won't sleep before Seoul, if only because Jiyong's said he wouldn't. Maybe Seungri won't either, though not for the same reason. He wants to sleep. He wants to sleep, curled up just like this.

Seungri is only twenty-two, as they count in the UK. And they are in the UK right now, so he'll take that tonight. A week ago, he was still twenty-one. They don't live together any longer; Jiyong's only just down the hall when they're on tour. 

"You wouldn't really leave me behind here, would you?"

"I'd tie you up small enough to fit in my suitcase," Jiyong says, no pause at all, "if you wanted to stay."

...

Seungri drifts off feeling the sharp, reassuring crescents of Jiyong's nails catch in his skin.


End file.
